


Consolations

by Yahtzee



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years after the time of "Phantom Menace," Obi-Wan and the surviving Qui-Gon try to understand what went wrong with Anakin, and with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consolations

"You're sure you're all right?" Vare said, looking sideways at his traveling companion.

"I'm sure," Obi-Wan said, trying to smile reassuringly. From the doubt in Vare's gray eyes, he knew he hadn't succeeded.

The Jedi Code taught that the truth was the only true route to kindness; any  
lie, however well-intentioned, was a corruption of reality and could serve  
little purpose. Obi-Wan had never put much stock in that particular article  
of the Code. Was it kindness to tell a friend how old he was looking? To  
tell a soldier that she had, in fact, fired the blast that destroyed her  
compatriots' ship?

To tell your lover that you could think only of the one you loved before?

Vare wasn't his lover at the moment, of course. Their brief affair two years  
ago on Bespin might easily have become more, but for the demands of the war  
against Palpatine; Vare had wanted that, still wanted it so palpably that  
Obi-Wan was as much shocked as flattered. Their reunion at any other time  
would almost certainly have led to a renewal of their romance. Perhaps a  
deepening into something substantial, something real.

But Vare had joined him for the journey to Yavin. Which, among other things,  
meant returning to Qui-Gon.

"You're thinking of him again," Vare said quietly, without rancor.

"Are my shields that sloppy?"

"No. You're as inscrutable as ever. But your eyes get that faraway look."

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow. "Inscrutable?"

Vare grinned, eyes sparkling. For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered whether he had ever looked so young -- and if so, how he'd ever convinced Qui-Gon to take up with him.

"And there you go again." Vare was still smiling, but his quietness was there, beneath the surface.

"I think it's a fairly understandable reaction." Obi-Wan's tone would have told a more seasoned man that the subject should be closed.

Vare pressed on. "It is -- I guess I just wasn't ready to see this. To see how much you loved him."

Strange, how much it hurt to hear that in the past tense.

They made landfall at dawn. Vare settled the ship easily into its berth, his movements assured despite the fine edge of nervousness Obi-Wan sensed in him. He admired Vare's control at the same time that he cringed at the source of that nervousness -- and the wild curiosity underlying it.

Vare would be far from the only interested onlooker, he knew. It was rare for two Jedi to bond with one another -- even more rare for such a bond to be dissolved. Even six years later --

\-- six years, how could it be six years --

\-- people would remember them, would be interested to see how they would interact with one another. They'd have drawn attention even if they hadn't both been connected with --

"Ready?" Vare asked, with well-meaning but artificial cheer, as he brushed his fair hair from his forehead.

"Lead on," Obi-Wan said.

They were each silent during the walk to the Jedi encampment. Obi-Wan knew he should have been thinking on the mission they would soon be undertaking, or perhaps meditating on the fact that so few of his comrades remained. But he did not.

Vare parted the low branches of a brenjen tree to reveal the camp; it was all Obi-Wan could do to stop from gasping in shock. The camp looked precisely as it should -- emergency shelters mixed with makeshift huts, laid out in an orderly fashion, and various Jedi going through their morning labors. At any other time, however, Obi-Wan would have felt the camp before seeing it -- the warm flow of energy between dozens of powerful, Force-sensitive minds would have sung to him, led him close. Now, even as he stood there looking at the others, he could feel almost nothing. Obi-Wan had realized long ago how much he had shut himself away; only now did he realize the others had done so as well. Their terror and anguish was finishing the task Palpatine had started.

Jailou saw them first. "You made it," she said, rising from the small bench near her hut to embrace them each in turn. "After the atrocities on Posk, we feared the worst."

"We saw the worst," Obi-Wan said. "But we were not forced to endure it."

Others were coming near now, murmuring greetings, stepping closer, save for one tall figure in the back. Obi-Wan lifted his head -- then felt his face light up in a rueful smile. "I don't believe it."

"I knew you'd have something to say on the subject." Qui-Gon grinned too, as much in relief as anything else.

The others parted as Obi-Wan walked to his former bondmate, shaking his head the whole time. "You're transformed."

Qui-Gon -- clean-shaven and short-haired for the first time in Obi-Wan's memory -- rubbed his smooth chin. "Is it really so shocking?"

"Only to me, I guess." Obi-Wan's smile softened. "It suits you."

"It's good to see you," Qui-Gon offered.

"And you." They each fell silent, at which point it became obvious that everyone else had been listening. After a moment, chatter sprung up around them, simple talk of rooms and belongings and rest before turning to their task.

No one spoke of their task, not yet.

In the middle of the clamor, Obi-Wan was able to let his attention wander, to try and slow his tremored breathing. He tried to reassure himself; it had gone well, hadn't it? The others thought so, were almost disappointed by the fact. A little melodrama would have been a diversion, at least.

But oh, how changed Qui-Gon was; he'd once been a man whose face denied his years. No longer. The hair was solid silver now. The body was still straight, still graced with ability -- but thinner, slower, less powerful. He was not an old man yet but would be soon.

Obi-Wan had long understood that their time could be limited. Being a Jedi was dangerous enough before Palpatine's war; now, every day was a struggle to survive. But never before had he considered the more mundane attrition of years. The inevitability of loss settled around him, dark and heavy like a rain-soaked robe.

His sorrows had a simple lesson: he could postpone matters no longer. Now -- before this mission -- Obi-Wan would have to face Qui-Gon alone. And beg for his forgiveness.

They gathered that evening in the center of the camp. Scarcely a hundred Jedi Knights -- nearly all that remained of the Order. There were others, of course; some injured or ill and unable to come, others imprisoned on a thousand worlds descending into anarchy. A few -- like Yoda -- seemed to have given up already; they were hiding now, awaiting some other day and some other fight. At times Obi-Wan thought they were the wise ones; he longed to do the same himself, to shut his ears to the Republic's death cries, to let Palpatine's own greed and folly work its destruction in time. But he could not do so while Qui-Gon still fought.

Jailou gestured to the holo projected slightly above them all. "Palpatine's Imperial convoy will pass through this system at approximately 1300 hours tomorrow. We already have in place the subspace disruptors that will force his vessels out of lightspeed. Our allies will emerge from the third moon to engage his fleet. That, of course, is only diversionary."

The holo changed to reveal a graphic of Palpatine's personal craft, cross-sectioned in thin blue light. "We will board Palpatine's shuttle. He will no doubt be heavily guarded. But if we can, we will engage him directly." Jailou hesitated -- a rare thing for her. But then she continued: "In order to get to him, we will no doubt have to confront Anakin."

Anakin. The syllables were like three strokes of a lash; Obi-Wan closed his eyes, trying to gather calm.

"Vader," Qui-Gon corrected, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. Obi-Wan alone knew what that admission had cost his Master.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Vare standing close, eyes soft with concern. Everything in his stance was protective, possessive; Qui-Gon's glance flickered over them briefly before turning back to Jailou. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan followed suit.

Jailou continued spelling out their plan of attack, making their victory seem realistic, even probable. She wasn't attempting to fool anyone, of course; it was just that success was the only thing worth describing. They all knew by now what their failure would mean.

When the crowds dispersed for the night, wandering off for sleep or meditation, Obi-Wan remained in place. He watched Qui-Gon walking away, saw again the shadows of age and sadness in his former bondmate. Only after Qui-Gon had gone inside his small hut did Obi-Wan realize Vare was watching him, in turn.

"Talking about Vader -- that upset you, didn't it?" Vare said, a little too quickly. Odd, that he would decide Vader was the safer subject.

"Not as much as I would have thought. But it hurts. It always hurts." Obi-Wan grasped Vare's shoulders. "I need to speak to Qui-Gon."

Vare lowered his gaze. "You don't owe me any explanations."

"I don't suppose I do. But I want to be honest with you."

"Then will you answer one question for me?" When Obi-Wan nodded, Vare asked, "Are you still in love with him?"

"No," Obi-Wan answered. "But he was my Master for twelve years, my bondmate for nearly eight. He is alone and in pain. I cannot see that without trying to help."

Vare slid his hands around Obi-Wan's waist. "If I were troubled, would you come to me?"

"You know I would," Obi-Wan said. He looked into the young man's face for a few long seconds; when he stepped away from Vare, he pretended not to hear a sigh of disappointment. "Good night, Vare."

"Good night," came the answer. Obi-Wan did not turn to acknowledge it as he walked away.

He paused on Qui-Gon's threshhold, then tapped on the flimsy door. A few moments passed before it swung open, allowing him to enter.

"I did not expect you to come here tonight," Qui-Gon said. His jacket was open, his boots in the corner. With these few trappings of his Knighthood removed, the older man seemed even more vulnerable.

"Until a little while ago, I did not mean to come." As he sat on a small footstool, Obi-Wan took measure of the hut. Qui-Gon had been one of the Jedi who started the camp on Yavin's fourth moon; that meant he had been here some months. But there was no touch of individuality to the room. Once, Qui-Gon had made a home of every chamber, every ship. Brought something of himself to every place he touched.

Qui-Gon sat opposite him on his makeshift bunk. "What changed your mind?"

"It was not a matter of changing my mind. I knew that much needed to be said between us -- but I only now decided that this was the time to say it."

"True enough," Qui-Gon said. "I ought to have had the courage to go to you myself. But I thought you might want to be alone with your friend." There was no jealousy in that deep voice, but perhaps a certain sadness.

"No. He would have it otherwise, but -- well. It's a poor time for beginnings."

"You don't sound like the impetuous young man I remember."

"I don't look much like him anymore either." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his graying hair.

"He's still in there," Qui-Gon replied. Obi-Wan looked up at him, surprised by the comment, and again by the laughing warmth in the older man's eyes. As they stared at each other, Qui-Gon's faint smile faded. "You didn't come here for small talk; I realize that."

They were silent together for a time. Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon was reliving the same memory he was: their last day together, six years ago, when they had broken their bond, dissolved their marriage.

Qui-Gon had spoken of it first, over a year before; although they'd all but lost the ability to speak together civilly at that point, Obi-Wan had surprised them both by begging for another chance. They'd ended that discussion in bed, lovers for the first time in too long. Qui-Gon's next attempt to raise the subject had followed the same pattern. And the next. Before long, the only thing that could bring them together was their mutual fear of admitting defeat.

Finally, Obi-Wan had gathered together enough courage to ask for the break himself. He had been both relieved and disappointed when Qui-Gon had simply agreed. They had sat across from one another -- much as they sat now -- taken each other's hands, and entered the final meditation trance they would ever share.

Slowly, painstakingly, they had severed the bonds between their minds, feeling the connection weaken, and then break. When it was done -- when Obi-Wan was truly alone in his mind, without the touch of either Master or bondmate for the first time in his adult life -- he had given in to tears. He would have been ashamed of his weakness but for the fact that Qui-Gon, too, was crying.

Obi-Wan had walked out without another word; the silence between them had stretched from that day to this.

"I wanted to ask you to forgive me," Obi-Wan said, looking down at the floor. "I have no right to that forgiveness; I know that. Every day, I see the consequences of my selfishness, my pettiness. For what's been done to the galaxy, I can offer no recompense. But what I did to you -- there are no words for my regret."

"Tell me what you mean. I think I know, but -- it's as well we were clear on  
this."

"From the first I resented Anakin. He took so much of your time, of your soul. No matter how hard I tried to overcome my meanness of spirit, he knew that I did not want him." Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon. "Growing up like that -- always struggling for acceptance, always disapproved of -- I know that it weakened him. Helped him become Vader."

Qui-Gon did not actually flinch at the name, but Obi-Wan could sense his recoil. "When he turned to the darkness, he did not act out of bitterness towards you," Qui-Gon said. "It was me he hated. Me he blamed, for being so weak and so foolish as to trust him."

"He could well have learned that bitterness from me. The Force knows I gave him many examples of it. The things I said of him, said to him sometimes --"

"You spoke the truth, though I would not hear. That darkness was ever a part of him. You always knew, Obi-Wan, and you were not the only one. Was the Council's jealousy behind their reluctance to have him trained? No. You warned me, and I would not listen," Qui-Gon said heavily. "I took his side against yours, over and over, until I destroyed your love for me. When I look back, I cannot comprehend my own blindness."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I was the one who made you choose sides. And -- whatever was within Anakin -- it was only potential. Not certainty. Instead of helping you guide him, I spent years driving him from the light, and making your life a hell in the process."

"You need to be forgiven for something, don't you?"

"I suppose there's enough blame for us to share." Obi-Wan tried to smile at their dark humor.

"We must both remember -- in the end, Anakin chose his fate. He had guidance and friendship enough to choose well. But knowing all this, he chose darkness. I try to think of that."

Obi-Wan nodded, accepting the lesson even if he did not believe it. And yet, his spirit was strangely soothed. Qui-Gon had given him no absolution from the guilt that had racked him in the three years since Anakin's fall; however, he had given him a glimpse of their companionship, something lost so long ago.

"How do you go on?" Qui-Gon asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The Temple has been pulled down for an Imperial palace. So many of our friends are gone. Even if we were by some blind luck to win the battle tomorrow, the galaxy would continue to be tortured by war for the rest of our lives." Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, searching for something he had never known himself. "You know all this, but I can tell -- you're not torn apart by it. Not the way I have been. How do you go on, after losing so much?"

Obi-Wan, unable to bear even the last distance between them, reached out and touched Qui-Gon's face, wondering briefly at the smooth skin beneath his fingers. "After I lost you, I think I no longer had the ability to feel anything else."

"I don't believe that," Qui-Gon said, covering Obi-Wan's hand with his own.

"Always thinking the best." Obi-Wan leaned forward, paused only briefly before kissing Qui-Gon.

He meant it only as comfort, a moment of warmth in a world gone cold. He knew Qui-Gon accepted it in the same way. Which was why the sudden jolt of arousal was so surprising.

Obi-Wan pulled back; Qui-Gon was staring at him, and not gently, but kept Obi-Wan's palm against his cheek.

After a moment's indecision, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and moved from his seat to kneel before Qui-Gon. He brought his other hand to Qui-Gon's shoulder and moved close to him once more.

"Are you sure?" Qui-Gon whispered.

"No," Obi-Wan answered, and then kissed him again.

Their mouths parted slowly, almost unwillingly; the touch of their lips had become unfamiliar and strange. But the warmth of Qui-Gon's skin against his own -- that he knew, that he remembered. His smell -- how could Obi-Wan have forgotten that? that warm, rich scent he used to breathe in from robes and sheets -- that was flowing into him, along with a current of energy his body still knew after all this time. And the way they touched each other -- Qui-Gon remembered the sensitive place on the small of his back, still reacted when Obi-Wan brought his hand up his thigh -- Obi-Wan could let himself go, let his body act and react almost without thought. Something that had been bound up within him, soundless and painful, was being freed in the embrace of the last homecoming he would ever know.

When at last Qui-Gon entered him, he cried out, only to have his voice smothered by yet another kiss. Obi-Wan could taste the tears on Qui-Gon's face; until that moment, he had not realized he was crying too. He could not have said whether this was joy or sorrow for either of them. Only that, amidst a thousand mistakes, they had finally made the right choice.

He slept in Qui-Gon's arms, and for the first time in years, he dreamed. Obi-Wan could not remember much of the dream the next day, but he knew that it had something to do with an orchard, a cool patch of grass under the shade, and Qui-Gon's laughter among the trees.

The next morning, after Qui-Gon had left to bathe, Obi-Wan dressed and made his way through the camp. As he had expected, he found Vare --tired, miserable, and more than a little angry -- in the hut they might have shared.

"Do I have to ask where you were?" Vare said.

"Not if you know the answer, and I think you do."

"Why?" Obi-Wan had braced himself for the pain in that voice, but it cut nonetheless. "You said you weren't in love with him anymore."

"I'm not."

"Then why go back to him?"

"There's more to life than love, Vare." Obi-Wan breathed out slowly. "Qui-Gon is my history. Everything I've ever done, everything I've been, good and bad -- he is a part of that. Whatever time we have left, I'll share with him."

As he looked at Vare -- saw again the beauty of his face, the transparent love in his eyes -- Obi-Wan felt a pang of loss. "I'm not going to torment us both with talk about what might have been," he said. "I have chosen my future. I hope you will have the chance to choose yours. And that you choose someone so much better than me that you look back on all this with disbelief in your own bad taste."

Vare could not help smiling at that, despite his evident misery; Obi-Wan was glad to see it. Though that smile did not alleviate his guilt, it reassured him of Vare's resilience, his good heart. If any of them made it through this war with their souls intact, Vare would be among them.

For those already lost -- well, there were consolations, after all.

Obi-Wan returned to the hut where he had spent the night; Qui-Gon was already back from the river, half-dressed, toweling his hair dry. He paused from his task long enough to kiss Obi-Wan, then went back to it without a word.

Obi-Wan flopped down on the bed, then propped himself up to look at something new, lying atop a storage crate inside. "What's that?"

"A bit of driftwood I found," Qui-Gon said. "A nice shape, don't you think?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, taking in the cool, pale curve of the wood. "I'm glad you brought it home."

##   
THE END

  


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